Summertime, But the Livin' Ain't Easy
by lastoneatthedisco
Summary: Blaine really wanted to hang out with Kurt all summer, but Gramma's surgery and an old friend from the past are totally getting in the way. Cue the band! AU, since Blaine has a sister, not a brother; during summer after Nationals.
1. Chapter 1

"I'll call you when we get to Omaha. Finn wants to visit some baseball thing. We won't stop in Chicago like I wanted because this is a 'special' trip and 'we can go to Chicago any old time.'"

Kurt had been micromanaging the Hummel-Hudson trip itinerary ever since the New Directions landed back in Ohio. Blaine still can't see how Kurt will plan a cross-country road trip to the Grand Canyon, make a list of colleges to tour (and subsequently apply to), write "Pip, Pip, Hooray!", work in his dad's shop, and hang out with friends all in one summer. Yeah, he knew that Kurt had planned his parents' wedding in ten days and he coordinated a flash mob at the mall in two hours, but the summer plans? They were insane. Blaine will miss their coffee dates, movie nights at the Hummels' house, and those long walks in the park that sometimes led to absolutely delicious make out sessions. He's worried that Kurt could drop their relationship.

Blaine, on the other hand, didn't get the role at Six Flags after all, so no moving to Aunt Sandra's house in Illinois for the summer. It was for the best, since Gramma's staying with them now.

He had gone to visit Gramma just once last semester, over Easter break from Dalton. Ellie Anderson flew down to Houston in April while Gramma, her mother, recuperated from emergency surgery. While at Dalton, he called his mother every day and Skyped with her weekly. She sounded more withdrawn, drained, tired after every call. They developed a script for their conversations: she would vent about Gramma's care, while he, in turn, would talk about school and helping out Sam's family.

Blaine hated hospitals. Gramma wasn't healing well. The incision site was still inflamed. She retained most of the saline pumped into the IV and she was in a lot of pain from everything else. Gramma and Blaine were unrecognizable to each other. Blaine hadn't felt so relieved or stressed in his life once he saw her.

Gramma was very independent; after Blaine's grandfather died of stroke at a young age, Gramma worked through secretary school while raising Ellie as a single mother. Somehow she parlayed bookkeeping and phone skills into a jet-set lifestyle, taking Ellie with her across Europe, Asia, and South America. Gramma sent Ellie back to the States in time for puberty. She felt abandoned at boarding school, what with the unrelenting structure and never-ending hormonal drama from the other girls. She begged to have just one more traveling year after high school, and then Ellie flew out to meet Gramma in Hong Kong, bound for the Australian outback. On the way to Alice Springs, Ellie met Albert, a geology student. To a cosmopolitan yet shy young woman like Ellie, Albert cut quite a dashing figure.

Blaine looked at the sleeping form of Gramma, stirring fitfully. In ten minutes' time, he will wake her up for her nighttime pills. Gramma will give Blaine a sleepy smile, sweet and childlike, all the while begging for the pain pills with her eyes. "Thank you, Blaine. Good night," she will say, greedily swallowing the pills as if she were simply sipping water.

He gritted his teeth in anticipation of their next meeting. How dare this interaction be the most positive, closest connection he's ever had with her? She often told of her adventures around the world with Ellie (and some when she left Ellie at school). A single mother and daughter just didn't do the things that Gramma and Ellie did on their travels, and certainly not in the 60s or 70s. So what makes his "unconventional" life so repulsive? Why can't he hold Kurt's hand next to Gramma when Blaine's older sister Adelaide regularly jumps her dirty hipster boyfriends in front of her? A small part of him craves those late night looks of gratitude from Gramma, until her eyes shift from his down to the pills in his palm.

"Take another sip, Gramma. You won't choke like last time." Blaine set the water glass on Gramma's nightstand. "I love you, Gramma. Good night," he said under his breath.

Gramma was having another bad day; she screamed, shivered, and shook. Ellie and Blaine sat next to her on the daybed to calm her down. Her eyes roamed the living room, searching for the drawer of pills. Earlier that week, Ellie and Blaine decided that Gramma's narcotics and sleeping pills must stay upstairs under lock and key. Blaine kept the box in his room; after all, if Gramma ever managed to get up the stairs, why would she want to look in that perverted boy's room? Gramma leapt up and paced, singing "I want to stop, I need to stop" as a mantra. Blaine felt a buzz in his pocket.

"We've checked in the next hotel & Finn's in the pool already. U wanna talk? – K"

"Call u in 20. Gramma's pacing again. 3 – B"

"D: - K"

Gramma curled up on her bed, exhausted from the jitters and pacing. She closed her eyes as her grandson closed the door. Blaine, acting as nightly sentry, sat on the couch in front of the guest bedroom (currently Gramma's room). He fired up his laptop, expecting to watch another movie, but a glowing Skype icon had other plans.

"Oh, Blaine, you look so tired. Was she that bad today?" Kurt himself looked a little rumpled from the long car ride.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

"But I do, Blaine. Your mom is using you as an unpaid nursing assistant to a bigoted, addicted old woman simply because she's your grandmother. Do you talk to anyone else besides me about her?" Kurt looked concerned.

"Well, the Dalton guys all went home, and I've talked to Sam and Mercedes a couple of times. Everyone's too busy. You know how hard it is for us to get in contact." Blaine hoped that didn't sound too rehearsed. Lately, he didn't want to talk to anyone; sometimes he'd ignore Kurt's texts, or "go silent" on Facebook.

"I talked to Mercy five minutes ago and she hasn't heard from you in over a week. Blaine, I really want to help you more. But you can't keep pretending that everything's all right when it clearly isn't." Kurt stared intently at him, all too knowing of what Blaine was going through. He, too, had found it hard to accept help when his dad was in the hospital. Blaine looked at Kurt stonily, as if he put the stones in Gramma's gallbladder and pumped her full of morphine. "Look, if you smile at me I'll show you one of your souvenirs!"

Blaine was easily bribed. He formed a classic showface that would make their rivals Vocal Adrenaline proud.

"I said smile, not dazzle!" Kurt pouted.

"See, I am fine. You know that I can't pull a showface when I'm down. Remember that Warblers practice after I got a C on the English project? I was more depressed over that than when Pavarotti died."

"But you managed an A minus overall in English, so little harm. Besides, we didn't end up kissing as a result."

Blaine laughed. "You're right, Kurt. Now do I get to see my ironic dream catcher?"

"As if I'd get you something so tacky. You, my dear, will receive a lovely coffee mug!" Kurt turned around and retrieved a bright orange mug.

"Oh, thank you, Kurt! I will think of you whenever I have my medium drip." Blaine relaxed, taking comfort in how easy everything seems when he's talking to Kurt. They chatted for a few more minutes, then Kurt was summoned by his family.

"I'll text you later, okay? You go get some sleep." Kurt glanced down and shared a secret smile with his knees. "I- I love you."

"I love you, too. Good night, darling." They logged off before Blaine could say "thank you".

The house was still, quiet. Blaine couldn't concentrate. He stared at Gramma's door for a while, listening for her stifled groans of pain. The night shift was so lonely. Sure, all Blaine had to do was give Gramma her pills at 2, and then he could go to sleep. But each time he closed the door, a part of him wilted from stress. The day shift was emotional. He'd end up laughing at whatever story Gramma felt like telling, or his face would fall ashen at her haranguing. Ellie could better sense when Gramma was in her "moods", so she'd take the day shift for him more often.

Sometimes, after he finished talking to his dad on the phone, he heard his mom crying.

He wanted to cry too, but he couldn't; he had to be the "man of the house" when he'd rather curl up in the dark and hide forever.


	2. Chapter 2

The days passed on, a parade of sticky hot interminability. The entire state of Ohio suffered through a record string of century-mark temperatures starting in July, and the few times that Blaine ventured outside, the oppressive sun baked him into oblivion. Ellie didn't tolerate heat very well; she had gone out to run errands one day and returned home while in the throes of heat exhaustion. Blaine made sure that Gramma was taking her nap, then he practically shoved Ellie into her bathroom to take a cool shower. After she recovered a bit, Ellie insisted that Blaine has grocery duty now.

Gramma wanted dreamsicles and bacon. Ellie wanted some more eggs. Blaine wanted orange juice and maybe granola for his yogurt. He put off grocery shopping until 9 pm, after the air felt tolerable. By this time, the 24 hour Kroger across town had been buzzing again with activity; junebugs and cicadas serenaded the slightly groggy shoppers as they hunted for milk and bread.

Blaine lucked out on a parking spot near the exit; he pulled in and cut off the engine to the car.

Quickly, he darted into the sliding doors in search of cold, deliciously cold food. Blaine followed one shopper down the canned vegetables aisle, a shortcut to eggs and juices, unconsciously humming. The shopper whipped his cart around to face Blaine, his face hinting at pleasure.

"What the fuck, Blaine! How're ya doing? I haven't seen you since-"

"A couple of years ago, I know." The young man in front of Blaine straightened the hem of his t-shirt, a move halfway between nervous and nonchalant.

"You look, uh, good." Blaine ran his hand through his hair, abashed.

"Yeah, you too, Jer." Jerry smiled slightly, his multicolored whiskers twitching. Currently, Jerry's hair was dyed blond with a blue streak, while his wispy beard grew in brown, red, and black hairs all swirled together. He had grown taller, too; he may not reach the heights of Finn Hudson, but he stood about three or four inches taller than Blaine. Dressed like any teen boy in the middle of a heat wave, he wore blue basketball shorts and soccer slides with a white t-shirt. Jerry adjusted his glasses.

"What's with the hair?"

"I got bored. What's with yours?"

"I, well, it's too damn hot right now so I'm letting it air dry. I didn't expect to see you here, or anywhere, since what happened after the dance-"

"You thought I moved away, ran away to private school like you did. No, while you were busy charming those prep school pricks, I stayed and tried to fight back. I got this limp-" he gestured to his leg, "about three weeks after the dance, when Stew and Eric found out you weren't coming back."

"Jer, I'm sorry, but-"

"But what, Blaine? Do you honestly think that Stew and his cronies wouldn't've beaten the shit out of you again because you 'turned the other cheek'? They didn't even think we were dating, and they still beat my kneecap in." Jerry flushed with anger, his grip tightening on the cart filled with pop and chips.

Blaine looked up, his expression a mixture of shame, pity, and regret. "I thought you transferred out, too."

"I did, but those McKinley dickheads were just the same. They'd throw slushies in their victims' faces. Stupid, right? But there were a few guys-"

"Azimio and Karofsky?"

"Yeah, them. Those two loved the locker check. As a band member, I'd get hit more often, but A/V and the glee club were the main targets. After both me and my mom reported the 'harassment' and the 'hostile learning environment' to the principal, he blew us off. Then she pulled me out for homeschooling in junior year." Jerry suddenly looked confused. "Wait, how do you know about Karofsky?"

Blaine didn't know how to answer him. He barely knew Jerry before they decided to go to the spring Sadie Hawkins dance together. In a rare act of spontaneous bravado, brought on by spiked punch, Blaine brought Jerry to the dance floor during some Rihanna song, not to slow dance but to show off his spectacular sprinkler impression. They made sure to dance with girls during the ballads, casting giddy looks to each other over their partners' shoulders. They thought that they were discreet.

They tried not to act "too gay" lest the idiot jocks drag them outside to punch and kick their way around every inch of their cowering bodies. Unfortunately, Stew, Eric, and five of their crew did just that, complete with a videographic reminder and a personal souvenir of the night: matching slashes along each boy's abdomen. Next thing Blaine knows, he's waking up in the hospital with his leg in a cast and stitches in his side.

He hadn't talked to Jerry since that night, going as far as deleting his old Facebook so that Eric wouldn't spam his wall. Obviously, Blaine and Jerry had unresolved issues leftover from their microseconds long relationship.

Blaine started swaying in place, the blood draining from his face. Woozy, he had to fight the urge to vomit next to the green beans. "I hear things. Look, we should catch up, but not when I'm about to pass out. So, where and when?"

Jerry was still caught off-guard. He pointed to the contents of his cart. "I'm having a party tomorrow. Mom told me to be more outgoing, and I found her liquor cabinet key. You wanna come?"

Blaine slowly nodded. "Do you live in the same place? I think we studied at your house one time, or was that my house?"

"Dude, I'll just text you the directions." Jerry scribbled something on a slip of paper. "Here's my number. See you there." He shook Blaine's hand and turned around the corner.

Blaine blinked. How will he be able to get out of the night shift for Gramma tomorrow? Ellie will have been up with her for 24 hours straight and that's not fair to her. But Kurt did want me to reach out, he thought. It's not Jerry will invite a bunch of jerks like Stew or Karofsky over, and if no one at the party wanted to listen, he could act like he's on stage. As long as he stays away from the liquor, he could probably avoid the showface part of his stage persona.

He wobbled over to the juice, remembering that he needed to get ice cream too. A new thought occurred to him. Jerry had gone to McKinley for sophomore year and was in band. Did he know any of the New Directions members? Was he _in_ New Directions? What if he knew Kurt? Could he have had a _crush_ on Kurt? His heart raced anxiously. Breathing heavily, he finished up shopping, spending way too much time standing in front of the freezers.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine convinced Ellie to take the night shift by taking over the rest of her shift once he got back from the store. Ellie was glad to hear about the party, since Blaine had been "so lonely lately" and worn out. However, Blaine neglected to tell her that Jerry was hosting, saying that the party was at Mercedes's place. He knew she still held a small grudge against Jerry and his family for "driving my baby out of school", even though he got hit too.

So what? He needs to talk to Jerry, even if it turns out he wants to run away with Kurt, or wants to date Blaine again, or some other panic-inducing idea.

He should dress to impress; Blaine wanted to look the part of a sophisticated man ready to take on anyone. Unfortunately, dressing for a job interview will be too formal for Jerry's party. He always felt a tiny bit vulnerable when wearing just a t-shirt and jeans; maybe donning the Dalton blazer for prolonged periods shielded him from, well, everything. Sighing, he pulled out one of Kurt's favorite shirts: a deep sky blue V-neck with an abstract sea gull pattern across the front. Shimmying into cuffed jeans and an old graffitied pair of sneakers, he looked very much like any guy going to a get-together at a friend's house.

Blaine didn't feel particularly festive.

The sun was blessedly setting; no longer did the shimmering heat trap people in their poorly air-conditioned homes. As Blaine put the finishing touches on his hair, he heard a car pull into the driveway. That can't be Kurt yet, he thought. He wasn't supposed to come back home for another week or so. He cracked open the window blinds and recognized Adelaide's car. How did my mother get her to come over? Without Hunter or Pierre or whatever his name is? Last time that Addie visited Gramma, she kept rubbing her hands all along What's-his-face's thighs with Gramma sitting across from them. Yet it was Blaine who was gravely chastised after they left.

That certainly settles it; no drinking at Jerry's, or he'd make Addie look clean in comparison.

Blaine crept down the stairs, car keys in hand, when his sister stopped him at the doorway.

"Going out, brother? Mom made me babysit the crone while you 'socially interact with your peer group'. How did you end up with a party invite when your blazer besties are out of town? Oh no," she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, "you're gonna go get laid!"

Blaine colored at the accusation. He protested, "No, no, I got invited yesterday by an old friend. Trust me; the last thing I want to do at the party is 'get laid'."

"Well, good luck with that, Blaine. I hope you make 'valuable connections' at this 'party'," she smirked, resembling a picture of Blaine's father.

He hurried off, reminding himself that Addie was only joking to rile him up. What poor form it would be to not only cheat on Kurt, but simultaneously destroy any chance of a recovered relationship between him and Jerry. The goal of the party is to gain closure of the past, not complicate the already murky future.

Jerry opened the door and greeted his first party guest. "Hey Artie! Bro, what's up?" They did a slapping high five as Jerry ushered Artie into the house.

"Oh, you know, just keeping it real, doin' what I do. We havin' a rager?"

Jerry snorted. "Dude, it's only the band. We'll be lucky if anyone passes out from my mom's vodka stash."

"Cool, man. You set up Rock Band? I'm playing lead guitar before Ben takes over." Artie rolled into the living room where the game controllers were set up.

"Whatever. You want some chips? Or want to get the party started early?" Jerry grabbed a bottle of vodka, clearing his throat nervously. More guests knocked on the door before he could do something stupid.

Thudding bass from a stereo rumbled throughout the house. Various members of the McKinley band and A/V club danced in the dining room, sliding up on each other with abandon. One of the dancing girls flipped her hair in a head banging motion. Her dance partner, squeezing a cup of punch in one hand, almost fell on top of her from surprise. Other girls wiggled their hips sensually, putting a show on for the wallflower boys.

"Those flautists really know how to shake it!" Pete shouted to Jerry while ogling the girls' gyrations.

"Yeah, man." A frizzy haired figure schlepped between the boys. "Excuse me. Who invited you, nosy perv?" He paused to squint at the bassist and host.

"You're just the man I wanted to see, runaway. I heard that you dropped out of McKinley to avoid a mob hit. Where are the drug mules you're harboring from the mob boss?"

"Jacob, get out of my house. Now."

Jacob sputtered in protest, but Pete and Jerry had dragged him to the front door, past the clutch of Rock Band players. The door swung open, with Blaine on the threshold.

"Don't come back, ben Israel," Jerry growled as he pushed the spy out. Blaine brushed by ben Israel, recalling that the bespectacled boy had spread all those rumors about the glee kids.

Jerry's facial expression softened at the sight of Blaine. "Blaine, ya made it, man! Thanks for coming. What's this?" Blaine handed over the gift to Jerry, which Pete snatched up. "You brought me coffee?"

"It'll help you sober up later, for when you need to clean." Blaine looked around the room, avoiding Jerry's gaze.

"Wow, that's really cool, man. Thanks." Jerry grinned. "So y'wanna play Rock Band? Pete?"

"Sure. But we're doing all Beatles. If I hear 'Freebird' one more time…" Pete said.

Blaine laughed. "I'm in."

Artie and Ben, the two lead guitarists in band, periodically switched out on the guitar control with a lot of grumbling. Luke, a percussionist, had played keytar all night; he eventually ceded control over to Blaine. Naturally, Pete took the bass guitar, and Jerry whacked on the drum kit.

"Shake it up, baby! Twist and shout!" Luke slurred into the microphone.

Artie snickered into his sleeve. "You sound like a straight-up fool. Me or Blaine should sing next."

"No, you get to sing all the time in glee club while I get kicked off the kit when Finn decides to play! It's my turn now!" The other players argued with each other.

Jerry waved to Blaine. "Let's go talk, unless y'wanna dance?"

"Fine. Where?"

"Upstairs. It's quieter." Jerry led Blaine past the makeshift dance floor, through the kitchen/bar to the staircase.

"We're only going to talk, right?"

"Pssh, you know it," Jerry guffawed.

Blaine glanced uneasily up to Jerry and sighed. They might as well hash it out where there are no eavesdroppers, he admitted to himself.


End file.
